


twenty-four

by jenhyung



Series: a series of domestic events [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Drama, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Youngho wants to propose, and he wants it to be special. It backfires. — Youngho / Taeil (Proposal!AU)





	twenty-four

**Author's Note:**

> 12k+ of ... look this was supposed to be an indulgent fic okay i’m sorry... was not proofread (as per usual, let me know if there are any mistakes) actual warnings of slight dub!con (nothing too serious) and incredibly bad writing with even worse plot holes and pacing... worst? bad smut (kissing, fucking) i'm sorry
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 6, june

Doyoung doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

“What! Why not!” Youngho plays with the velvet ring box, rose red with a pearl colored satin cushion. A simple ring sits in the tiny slot, a band of white silver with the date of their anniversary engraved on the inside. Youngho was going to go all out on the wedding ring, diamonds or colored gems, he didn’t know yet, but this was just one to commemorate their engagement, and he wanted them to pick something out together anyway, so that it would be to both their likings.

It wasn’t anything grand, just plain and simple, the way Taeil liked things to be.

“You, of all people, should know just how much Taeil hates surprises,” Doyoung motions for the box, and Youngho slides it across the table. Doyoung grabs it, rubbing his finger against the gold heart inscribed on the lid. “It’s going to backfire, and you’re going to come crying to me when Taeil gets mad.”

Youngho pouts, “It’s not going to backfire.”

“You want to _pretend_ to break up with him? Just so you can surprise him by proposing?” Doyoung frowns, sliding the box back to Youngho. “I don’t know if you’re joking right now, honestly, did you not learn from the previous surprise you planned?”

Youngho groans. Doyoung was right.

On their first anniversary, Youngho pretended to forget all about it, going so far as to avoid his boyfriend during the entire week leading up to the important date. It would be a complete understatement to simply say that Taeil was _hurt_. The petite boy refused to leave his apartment, despite Youngho’s incessant pleading from the hallway, annoying the rest of the neighbors in Taeil’s building. Taeil didn’t leave his apartment the entire weekend, not even when Youngho’d admitted to secretly planning an incredibly romantic picnic date under the stars, complete with dishes he’d slaved over the stove just a couple of hours prior. He didn’t appreciate the surprise, and left Youngho to weep pathetically at Doyoung’s place instead.

Youngho was only forgiven when he managed to grab a hold of Taeil after work, and expressed his sincerest apologies, promising to never pull such a stunt on him again.

“That was different!” Youngho insists when Doyoung gives him a pointed look, brows furrowing. “This is different! We’ve been together, what, five years now? It’d be silly of him if he didn’t see this coming.”

Doyoung scoffs, “You’re an idiot. He’s going to hate it, Youngho.”

“How do you suggest I propose then?” Youngho pops the ring box open, looking at the ring, albeit sad that his grand plan wasn’t going to go through.

Yet, he can’t help but smile at the way his heart thrums, just from thinking about slipping the ring onto Taeil’s finger. It would look so beautiful, silver against his pale skin, an image that’s plagued his mind since he saw the ring in the window of a jewelry shop. It was a little embarrassing to admit how badly he wanted Taeil to know how much he loved him. Not that Youngho was ever stingy with worshipping Taeil with ‘I love you’s, but he wanted something _more_ now, and getting married was the next logical step to him.

“Take him out to a nice dinner,” Doyoung shrugs. “Have a nice meal, propose with a bouquet of flowers, live happily ever after. You know, like regular people.”

Youngho sniffs. That sounded _boring_ , and Youngho didn’t like being boring. He wanted his proposal to Taeil to be something memorable for them both. Something they’d talk about for years to come.

Doyoung throws a hand in the air when Youngho says just that, “Then go on a fucking hot air balloon or something! Not break the poor man’s heart, god, Youngho, are you a fucking sadist?”

“I’m not sadistic,” Youngho rolls his eyes. “I just want it to be special! A surprise!”

Doyoung sighs dejectedly, “You’re an idiot.”

“What about you?” Youngho slips the ring box into his bag, raising a brow at his best friend now. “When are _you_ going to pop the question?”

“Shut the fuck up, here he comes,” Doyoung mutters under his breath, and Youngho looks over his shoulder to see Taeyong ambling happily towards them, a smile on his face,

“What are you guys talking about?”

Youngho grins madly, and Doyoung kicks his shin under the table,

“Nothing at all. How was work?”

 

x

 

“Are you sure I have to wear the bowtie?”

Youngho nearly falls off the bed at the sound of his soon-to-be-fiancé whining from the bathroom.

“Yes,” Youngho replies loudly, quickly slipping the velvet ring box into his jacket pocket. “It’s a formal event!”

“‘Formal event’,” Taeil grumbles, emerging from the en-suite in a dashing suit, black blazer with a white dress shirt, and a red bowtie that Youngho’d gifted him the night before. (It matched the ring box.) “Why are you being so secretive? Are we watching a fancy play?”

Youngho feels his heart catch in his throat when Taeil shuffles towards him, after leaving his phone on the bedside table, looking at him dubiously. He opens his arms naturally to envelope Taeil into a tight hug, swaying them a little.

“We might be,” Youngho teases, kissing the top of Taeil’s head, fond of the way Taeil’s heady scent mixed with his coconut-y shampoo he loved to use on special occasions.

Taeil’s small hands slide under Youngho’s jackets, and he tenses a little, afraid Taeil might feel the outline of the box against his knuckles. There might be a pause, and the ring box feels like a twenty-pound weight. He relaxes when Taeil squeezes his waist, “Will we be out late? I need to get some ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner too.”

Youngho laughs, and his heart is _so_ full. How he managed to land a gem like Taeil will forever be a mystery to him. He loved everything about Taeil; the way he smiled, laughed, joked about his day at work with his kindergarteners at school, or the way he complained and fussed, but was still determined, about learning how to cook Youngho’s favorite dishes (completely on his own doings), down to the way he moaned, whined, and whimpered during the long nights Youngho took to draw him out.

He couldn’t wait to ask Taeil to marry him. He couldn’t wait for Taeil to say yes.

“I don’t know,” Youngho hums, squirming when Taeil pinches him. He pulls away to find Taeil glaring up at him, stifling a laugh when he leans down to kiss him firmly on the lips.

Taeil sighs into the kiss immediately, fingers threatening to dip into the back of Youngho’s slacks. Youngho smiles into the kiss, licking Taeil’s bottom lip, tongue sliding past his lips to wrap around Taeil’s. He takes pleasure in the way Taeil moans, letting Youngho kiss him soft and slow.

“Are you sure we can’t just stay home tonight?” Taeil sighs when they pull apart, lips swelling and pinker than usual.

Youngho contemplates throwing Taeil onto the bed behind him, forgoing the expensive wine and dinner to spend the night pleasing his boyfriend, something he’d love to do. But the ring box weighs heavy in his jacket pocket, and Youngho shakes his head of the alluring thought,

“As much as I’d love to,” Youngho dips down to kiss Taeil again, laughing when Taeil whines when he draws away, “I’ve made reservations for us at Clair de Lune _,_ your favorite restaurant.”

Taeil pinches him again, “What do you have planned, Seo Youngho?”

Youngho wriggles under Taeil’s hold, “Nothing! I just wanted to take you out tonight, is that so hard to believe?”

“The last time we went to Clair de Lune was when you managed to score that big client at work,” Taeil narrows his eyes, and sometimes Youngho disliked how perceptive Taeil was to his actions. He lowers his voice threateningly, but it’s hardly anything scary coming from someone as adorable as he was, “Youngho…”

“It’s a surprise you’ll love,” Youngho settles.

“I’m giving you one last chance to come clean,” Taeil presses.

Youngho is resolute, “It’s nothing horrible.”

Taeil sighs, pulling his arms away.

Youngho grabs him for another kiss before Taeil can slip away, “I promise.”

Taeil smiles gently, “I believe you.”

 

x

 

(Youngho decides that he’s not going to do it. He isn’t going to lie to Taeil. He didn’t want to hurt him, not even if it _could_ possibly make him feel less nervous about the entire ordeal.

 

Yet, he does do it.

It’s because Youngho has no self-restraint.

There really isn’t any other explanation to _why_ he decided to ignore his moral conscience, Doyoung’s advice, and just plain common sense.

Could it be that Youngho was afraid that the proposal was going to be so disappointing that Taeil would be upset? What was he going to do if Taeil hated the way he said ‘Would you marry me?’, and decided instead that maybe this isn’t something that he wanted to do with Youngho after all. Maybe Youngho _wanted_ Taeil’s mood to be sour before he proposed, so that when he did, it would be an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness.

Maybe it was wedding jitters. Maybe everything’s crashing down a little too quick.

Whatever excuse he’s concocted to reason why his actions were validated should have been nullified.

Doyoung’s right. Youngho _is_ an idiot.)

 

It happens after conversations of how their day went, about Taeil’s mischievous kindergarteners, about Youngho’s presentations at the marketing company he worked at. It happens when Youngho’s done polishing off his second glass of red wine, Taeil still slowly working through his first.

 “Taeil,” Youngho says, watching the smaller man twirl his fork in his plate of spaghetti. He doesn’t look up, immersed in his meal. “We’ve been together a long time now, right?”

Taeil lifts his head slowly, a blank look on his face. He nods, “Five years.”

Youngho is itching to get the words out, get it over and done with, take Taeil home and press him up against the wall, kiss him giddy, “That’s a long time.”

Taeil softens, smiling, “It is.”

“I’ve been thinking…” Youngho can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, behind his eyes.

Taeil reaches for his wine glass, pressing it to his plush lips, waiting for Youngho to continue. He looks at Youngho with expectation and trust.

Youngho should’ve been guilty enough not to let the words slip from his lips,

_Would you marry me?_

“I think we should take a break.”

The reaction is far less explosive than he thought it to be.

In fact, it was incredibly underwhelming.

“Oh,” Taeil blinks, setting the glass down without taking a sip. He leans back in his seat, and then quietly, “Well, that’s a relief.”

Alarms go off in Youngho’s mind instantly, flashing red and blue. His heart slams against his chest, and he grips his thigh under the table, “Huh?”

Taeil laughs airily, lacing his fingers together, “You want to take a break, right?”

Youngho’s throat is dry. “I – ”

“I do too,” Taeil shrugs nonchalantly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

The music from the live band at the corner of the restaurant turns into an uncomfortable buzz. The sound of forks and knives against ceramic are suddenly screeching in his ears, painful and distressing. It feels like his entire world is tilted on an axis, like everything’s just a second away from tipping over. The unfinished dinner between them laughs up at Youngho, evil and demeaning.

_No, no, no, what is happening?_

Pressure’s forming at the back of Youngho’s eyes, and he can hear his heart cracking, _breaking_ , over the sound of his own voice, “I – I”

“Didn’t know if I should bring it up,” Taeil sniffs, looking back down at his meal, picking up his fork again as if they were discussing whether or not to have dessert. Not at all concerned at the way Youngho seemed to struggle with breathing. “But I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“You – ” Youngho can’t even get the words out without his voice breaking. He breaks into cold sweat, “You want to break up?”

Taeil twirls another spoonful of spaghetti, but he doesn’t bring it to his lips, “Don’t you?”

“No!” Youngho cries, ignoring the dirty looks the other patrons are sending his way. He doesn’t care, not when there’s a chance Taeil might be slipping right through his fingers. He leans across the table, trying to grab Taeil’s hands, but the older man pulls away. It feels like he’s trying to grab fistfuls of water, “No! I don’t!”

“What are you talking about?” Taeil mutters, sounding annoyed, but he’s still looking down at his plate. “You _just_ said you wanted to take a break, Youngho. Why are you getting mad?”

“I – I,” He can’t get the words out. There’s a clamp around his chest, forcing it to hurt whenever he tried to breathe.

“I’m leaving,” Taeil stands, his fork clanging noisily when he drops it without much care.

Youngho scrambles to his feet, towering over the smaller man easily, “Taeil – ”

He’d expected Taeil to run, just like he always did in situations like these. Like when Taeil had forgotten to return a library book under Youngho’s name, incurring a ridiculous two-hundred-and-fifty dollar fine, and he tried to pay it off all on his own without telling Youngho (Doyoung told on him). Like the time Taeil had accidentally scratched one of Youngho’s prized vinyls when he was cleaning their apartment, and avoided going home the entire day, in fear of how Youngho would react.

Taeil never faced conflict head on unless it truly mattered to him. Like the time Youngho was getting yelled at by a lady by the supermart’s register for not understanding her accented words, and Taeil’d come rushing to his defense, retorting with words Youngho’d never thought he’d hear the small man say. Or the time Youngho’d gotten accused of stealing in a tiny record shop, solely because the owner disliked the way Youngho kept knocking things around (long limbs and whatnot), and Taeil had countered with, “No one would steal anything from this stupid shop anyway!”

But Taeil takes a step towards him this time, gaze changing in a split second, and it forces a shiver down Youngho’s spine.

It was unprecedented,

Taeil jams his hand roughly into Youngho’s jacket pocket, and effortlessly pulls out the velvet ring box. It’s an action done with so much conviction, so much confidence, as if Taeil knew it was hiding in there the entire night.

Youngho’s blood freezes.

Taeil knew.

Of _course_ , Taeil would know. Taeil knew when Youngho lied about not having work the one time Taeil was down with the worst case of the common cold, insistent on staying at home to take care of his boyfriend. Taeil knew when Youngho lied about liking this indie band Taeil was obsessed over in college, going so far as to buy tickets for the both of them to watch the band play for three hours at a live bar. Taeil knew when Youngho lied about wanting to spend Christmas here with Taeil, instead of flying back to meet his family, choosing to have eggnog and gingerbread cookies over cheesy Christmas movies with Taeil.

There wasn’t anything Youngho could hide from him; he could try, but Taeil would find out eventually, either by his own means, or by Youngho’s inability to lie to his lover.

The air around them is heavy and tense, but at the same time Youngho can feel everything at once, like an insane case of overstimulation; he’s suddenly aware of the need to breathe, yet it’s not _working_. Why can’t he breathe? He can’t with Taeil holding up the ring box between them, staring at him, with only emptiness in his eyes.

“I can explain,” Youngho says quickly, trying to at least get his foot through the door.

It’s in vain, because Taeil is slamming the ring box with a resounding _thwack!_ onto the dinner table, knocking over his unfinished glass of wine, staining the white table cloth blood red.

Taeil turns to stalk off, but Youngho’s hands are quicker, snatching at his biceps tightly, “No, please – ”

“Youngho.” It’s low, quiet. Taeil’s not even _looking_ at him now, not even with Youngho’s hands on him, “If you don’t let me go right now,” he commands. “It’s over.”

Youngho lets go immediately, scalded by the severity of the threat, “Taeil, _please_.”

“I’ll see you at home,” he says with finality, turning on his heels, leaving Youngho in the dust.

 

Maybe it _will_ be a night they’ll never forget.

 

x

 

By the time Youngho’s manages to hail a cab, any traces of the short brunette are completely gone. Youngho pays for the dinner with his credit card, and the machine takes a long time to get through, but he doesn’t know if that’s a bad thing or not, considering what’s waiting for him at home.

Taeil packing an overnight bag, is what’s waiting for him at home.

“Taeil,” is the first thing Youngho says, not bothering with toeing off his shoes. He’d spent the car ride thinking over how to apologize, how to get his sentiments across. It’s useless, because all rational thought is kicked out the window the moment he sees the love of his life shoving random handfuls of clothes and underwear into his duffel bag (the one Youngho had gotten for him ages ago, for when they would take weekend trips down to neighboring towns).

“I’m going to stay at Taeyong’s,” Taeil interrupts roughly, zipping up the bag now. He hauls it over his shoulder, not even sparing a glance at Youngho guarding the door, “Don’t call me.”

Taeil moves to duck past Youngho, but he isn’t having any of it, tugging the duffel bag from Taeil’s hands, flinging it across the room. It lands by their bed with a loud _thump_.

Youngho’s mind is frazzled, and he can’t even _see_ clearly.

“Please don’t leave,” he manages to beg, at least, hands by his sides, feeling incredibly small.

Taeil sighs, walking back to where his bag has fallen, and Youngho follows, “I – I need time to think.”

“There’s nothing to think about!” Youngho insists, and Taeil bends to pick up the strap of his bag. “I – I made a mistake. I love you, Taeil, please.”

Taeil laughs, _laughs_. Bitterly, sharply. It pierces through Youngho’s chest, straight into his heart, like a flamed arrow.

“You obviously don’t love me or know me well enough, Youngho,” Taeil moves to hitch the bag over his shoulder, but Youngho pulls it out of his grasp again, holding onto the strap. His voice is strained, but fierce, as if he were scolding one of his students for eating one too many crackers, “Give me the bag. Now. I need some time away.”

Youngho doesn’t know _why_ Taeil’s dragging it out. Their fights have never been like this. There might have been some with a fair bit of yelling and crying, but Taeil’s not one to shove things under the rug, not when it came to fights like these. Their fights were settled and dealt with, no matter the consequences that might follow. It forced them to have as little misunderstandings as possible.

“Taeil, please,” he tries again, and when Taeil reaches for the strap, Youngho holds it further behind him. “I just wanted to – to – ”

“To what?” Taeil lunges for the bag, but Youngho’s still quicker, body trying its best to keep him leaving. He kicks it away from the both of them. “Play around with me? Jerk me around?”

Youngho wants the clock to rewind, “No, I just – ”

“I want to take a break,” Taeil sighs, hands coming up to cover his face. “I didn’t think you could go this far, Youngho. I don’t understand how I could’ve thought to be with someone like this, not to mention get married.”

It feels like there’s nothing left of Youngho. Just skin and bones, and maybe some tears too. “What?”

“Let’s take a break,” he lets his hands drop from his face. Laughing, “Like you wanted to.”

Youngho doesn’t move, legs frozen solid to the ground. Taeil seems to have noticed his inability to react, and he moves to grab his duffel bag off the ground, slinging it onto his shoulder.

It’s only when Taeil’s halfway out the hall when Youngho regains control of his limbs, and he chases after Taeil, pushing him roughly against the wall. He groans when his back hits the hard surface, hold on the duffel bag loosening, dropping it to the ground.

“Please,” Youngho has Taeil’s wrists in his hands on either side of his face, holding Taeil like a trapped prisoner. “I love you, Taeil, please, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did,” Taeil grits out, eyes still closed. “You _knew_ it would hurt. Let me go, Youngho.”

Youngho has never forced himself on Taeil; he always made sure Taeil wanted it as much as he did.

It’s a different circumstance now. If he even so much as makes another blunder, Taeil could be out the door and his life for the rest of his time on earth. It wasn’t something Youngho was ever going to gamble with.

He dips down to kiss Taeil on the neck, a sweet spot of Taeil’s, one that he’d found during their first night together, and it’s still one of his weaknesses, one that Youngho’s all too familiar with. Taeil hisses, hands writhing under Youngho’s hold.

Sex has never been on the table for them to hold over the other’s head; it’s always been about love, long and slow, and sometimes just purely to satisfy their needs, quick, yet satisfying. But it’s never been about _persuasion_.

“I was just nervous,” Youngho bites down onto Taeil’s neck, and he moans despite the situation, just like Youngho knew he would. He runs a tongue over the tiny indents, and Taeil exhales loudly, his breath fanning across Youngho’s cheek. “I would never leave you, Taeil,” He leaves wet kisses on the underside of Taeil’s jaw, murmuring his apologies, “I love you, please, believe me.”

Taeil doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t push away, and Youngho takes that as progress. He releases Taeil’s wrists, holding him by the waist now, pressing their crotches together, just how Taeil liked it.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Taeil, please,” Youngho sighs into the crook of Taeil’s neck, and he’s almost _relieved_ when Taeil’s small hands are on his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. “All I want is to be with you forever.”

He should’ve known that it was too easy. Taeil is soft, but the words hit him like an eighteen-wheeler truck,

“Did you want breakup sex too?”

The clamp around Youngho’s heart snaps, and his heart is crushed into smithereens. He jumps away immediately, lips, hands, crotch off Taeil the moment the words hit his ears, face contorted into panic.

 _Now, he’s done it_.

And again, for the second time tonight, the reaction is unimaginably scant.

Youngho’s expected Taeil to go _off_. Like he did when Youngho tried to kiss him in public when they’d first started dating, when Youngho argued that he did it because he wasn’t ashamed to call Taeil his boyfriend, and Taeil countered that it wasn’t about _shame_ , but about whether or not he was comfortable with it all. Taeil was never one to hold back on correcting Youngho when it came to intimacy.

But then again, the circumstances are different tonight.

Maybe Taeil’s tired of him always having his way, always having things to be grand and dramatic. Maybe he’s tired of Youngho always pushing him to do things he didn’t want to do. Like the time Youngho bought them sky diving tickets, and it made Taeil cry just thinking about jumping from a plane, forcing Youngho to jump himself, leaving Taeil waiting for him by the base, worried and alone. Or the time Youngho insisted they eat at this special Japanese restaurant, where they slice live fish before your eyes, just as they serve you. It made Taeil sick, and they had to leave the moment the chef brought a giant tuna fish out. Or the time Youngho first brought Taeil to Disneyland, and he _promised_ Space Mountain would be a kids’ ride, and Taeil threw up half the turkey leg he’d eaten before the ride, and Youngho spent the rest of the day apologizing, cuddling Taeil to recovery in their hotel room.

Maybe Taeil was too tired of apologies.

“Don’t call me.”

The sound of their front door locking.

 

Youngho doesn’t call Taeil.

He sleeps in the hallway, too weak to make it to their room, too afraid of the sight of an empty bed would break him down again.

 

x

 

Youngho doesn’t wake up to Doyoung’s first message, but he does wake to the second and third:

 

21JUN [08:42] **doyoung** : how’s my favorite engaged couple doing this fine morning?

 

21JUN [11:32] **doyoung** : i just got home  
21JUN [11:32] **doyoung** : you’re a fucking idiot

 

“Is he there?”

“No,” Doyoung picks up the call quick, and his tone is cold. Youngho’s still in the hallway, still clad in his black suit, shoes still on his feet. His neck is sore from sleeping on the ground, and his back is hurting too. It’s doesn’t compare to the ache in his heart, and the guilt on his mind, “He left for work.”

The giant rock in his throat makes it hard to swallow, “Did he say anything?”

“No,” Doyoung is firm. Even over the phone, Youngho can tell how disappointed his best friend is. “He was _crying_ all morning, Youngho, and all night too, Taeyong says.”

Youngho lies back onto the ground, squeezing his eyes shut, as if he could will the image of Taeil crying out of his mind if he held it long enough.

“I told you not to do it,” Doyoung sighs. “Didn’t I tell you not to do it?”

Youngho just wants to hang up. “I know.”

“Taeil hates this sort of thing, you know that,” Doyoung continues, and Youngho exhales loudly. There’s a knot in his stomach, tight and coiling around him. “It’s going to take him a lot to go along with something like this, honestly, Youngho.”

The words sound a little oddly put, but Youngho can only sigh and agree to his mistake.

“Hand me the phone.” He hears Taeyong on the other line, and he _really_ wanted to hang up now. Taeyong was not a nice person when it came to anyone hurting his friends. Youngho vowed never to be on Taeyong’s bad side after having heard what he’d shrieked across the lecture theatre at their old college mate (Jung Minhyuk) when the boy went out of his way to mess with Doyoung’s final year film project.

Doyoung, despite it all, must’ve still cared about Youngho to some extent, “I don’t think that’s a good – ”

“Kim Doyoung, you hand me that phone right now.” Taeyong’s voice grows louder, and Youngho braces himself from the onslaught of curses that Taeyong has in store. But he doesn’t get to hear it, because the line goes dead.

Youngho takes half a second to thank Doyoung for his sacrifice, knowing that Taeyong’s probably screaming bloody murder by now.

It’s an eerie sort of silence, he realizes.

Their apartment is never _this_ silent. The sound of Taeil pitter-pattering through the different rooms as he cleans, or when he’s looking for something, since he’s always misplacing his bank book, or his headphones, or his phone, even. The sound of Taeil tapping his pen against the dining table when he’s trying to come up with reports for his kindergarteners, frustrated because sometimes there was just nothing nice to say about screaming four-year-olds who eat paste and the tips of Crayola. The sound of Taeil humming to himself when he’s reading a book or a magazine he picked up on the way home from work, sitting on the couch, waiting patiently for Youngho to finish cooking dinner.

It’s not a silence Youngho’s ever going to take a liking to.

 

21JUN [11:43] **youngho** : taeil, can we meet? please? i just want to talk  
21JUN [11:43] **youngho** : i wasn’t thinking straight, please taeil  
21JUN [11:45] **youngho** : i’ll come find you after work

 

Youngho struggles to get to his feet, and he doesn’t dare look at their neatly made bed. The bathroom is even worse, what with Taeil’s little trinkets lying around; matching toothbrushes with Youngho, along with their matching toothbrush holders they’d gotten at a fair once, Taeil insisting that it’d be cute, and Youngho kissing him, telling him that _he_ was cute. His tiny collection of hair ties that he wore on his wrist, lest a student of his needs one, or when Youngho’s long fringe gets in the way of them kissing, and he’d tie Youngho’s hair up into a tiny ponytail for him. The boxes of eye-drops he’d recently bought, after learning that he’d been blinking so much lately due to all the fine dust in the air.

He groans quietly, peeling his suit off him and tossing it into the laundry basket. The outfit he had on yesterday (a hoodie and a pair of jeans) is still hanging on the hooks behind him, so he puts those on, too out of it to pick out a new set of clothes.

 

21JUN [11:51] **youngho** : let’s go for lunch?  
21JUN [11:52] **youngho** : jennys? it’s close to school?  
21JUN [11:53] **youngho** : or i can pack food for you?  
21JUN [11:53] **youngho** : pork belly wraps?  
21JUN [11:54] **youngho** : your favorite?

 

Youngho sits down on the bed, wincing a little when the smell of Taeil hits him.

Then he remembers. The ring.

Where is the ring?

Frantically, he rushes back into the bathroom, sliding to his knees, gripping at his jacket, realizing that the ring is _gone_. He must’ve left it in the restaurant.

“This is great,” Youngho throws the jacket back down, rubbing at his temples. “This is just _so_ great, Youngho, you are fantastic, the best on earth, the best in the fucking universe.”

 

21JUN [11:56] **youngho** : fuck dude i left the ring at the restaurant  
21JUN [11:56] **doyoung** : go fucking get it back then idiot  
21JUN [11:56] **doyoung** : are they open now?

 

It takes the restaurant five rings to pick up, “Hello, this is Clair De Lune. My name is Donghyuck, how may I help you?”

“Listen, yes, hi, Donghyuck,” Youngho takes a deep breath, trying to level his voice. “I left something at Clair De Lune last night, I was wondering if I could come down and get it?”

“If you could tell me what you left here, I would be able to advise accordingly,” Donghyuck drawls, and he sounds too young to be a receptionist at a restaurant. Youngho figures he must be an intern or a temp or something.

“A ring,” Youngho cringes. “A red ring box, with a silver band inside.”

There’s a bit of ruffling on Donghyuck’s end, “Nope, sorry – I mean, my apologies, sir. There are no ring boxes in our lost and found.”

Youngho’s heart drops six thousand feet into hell, “What? No, it’s got to be there.”

“It’s not here,” Donghyuck clears his throat. “There are no rings here. Or ring boxes. Neither to both.”

His leans against the frame of the bathroom door, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” the boy sounds thoroughly peeved now. “There are no rings, or ring boxes. Unless you happen to have left behind a very expensive looking umbrella, I’m sorry, but I can’t be of much help to you, sir.”

Youngho’s not about to give up just like that, “Can’t I go down there and have a quick look?”

“You can, but only after tonight’s dinner shift, which ends at ten.”

“Can’t I go down there now? It’ll be really quick.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but the restaurant is closed to guests prior to six in the evening, and I doubt my manager would be happy if you came snooping around at people’s feet during dinner.”

It’s worded a little strongly, but it gets the job done. “Fine,” Youngho sighs. “I’ll be there tonight. Thank you.”

“Goodbye.”

 

21JUN [12:04] **youngho** : it’s not there  
21JUN [12:04] **doyoung** : shut the fuck up no  
21JUN [12:04] **doyoung** : are you sure?  
21JUN [12:05] **youngho** : yeah but i’m going down tonight to check  
21JUN [12:05] **doyoung** : have you managed to call taeil?

 

21JUN [12:05] **youngho** : i’m coming down now okay?

 

The reply is so quick, it throws Youngho off guard,

 

21JUN [12:05] **taeil** : i’m busy, don’t bother  
21JUN [12:06] **youngho** : you still have to eat…  
21JUN [12:06] **youngho** : i’ll just drop by with some food, okay?  
21JUN [12:07] **youngho** : i won’t even stay for lunch

21JUN [12:31] **taeil** : don’t bother, youngho

 

x

 

Youngho still goes down to the school anyway, both hands loaded with pork belly wraps, kimchi fried rice, various assortment of fried pancakes and side dishes to go along with it all. He’s greeted by several kindergarteners the moment he steps through the gates, having been to the school a couple of times before. They follow him as he walks the narrow pathway, trying his best not to let the styrofoam packets hit the children in the faces.

“Youngho!” It’s a warm voice, and it could only belong to one Kang Seulgi, another teacher at the kindergarten. “What a surprise! Taeil didn’t mention you were coming by today!”

“Ah, yeah,” he tries his best to smile. “I just thought I’d surprise you guys with some lunch?” He holds the bags of food up, and Seulgi’s eyes positively sparkle,

“I wouldn’t say no to a free lunch,” she grins, ushering him inside the tiny institution.

The children are guided back outside by a teacher’s assistant Youngho’d never met before (his name tag reads ‘Renjun’), and Youngho is led to the breakroom, which was empty, not surprisingly.

“You’re too sweet, Youngho,” Seulgi says, but she’s already distracted by the wide variety of food Youngho’s placed on the tables. “Taeil should be coming in any time now, actually, I think he’s just about done with one of his classes.”

“Okay,” Youngho helps to take the food out of the plastic bags, arranging them neatly. “I’ll just wait in here for him.”

Seulgi clasps her hands together, “I think some of the other teachers are in the pantry! I’ll go call them over,” she smiles, “You’ll be alright on your own, yes?”

Youngho nods, and he grabs the chopsticks from the bags, “I’ll be fine, please go ahead.”

“I’ll be back in just a second!”

The door slides to a close, and the room is quiet. He can hear the sounds of children screaming happily, running around the lawn behind the school. It almost comforts him, the sound of silence the entire morning has been much too overwhelming. Doyoung had refused to pick up any of his calls, messaging him to say that Taeyong was going to rip his vocal cords out if he so much as thinks about calling Youngho.

The door is open again, a little too quick for it to be Seulgi,

“What are you doing here?”

Youngho looks up, chopsticks still in hand.

It’s Taeil.

Of _course_ , it’s Taeil.

There’s a very long silence. “I said I’d bring you lunch.”

Taeil doesn’t miss a beat, “And I said don’t bother.”

He moves to leave the files in his arms onto the cupboards lining the wall, and Youngho would’ve stepped forward to help, if his feet weren’t glued to the ground, “I wanted to.”

A pause.

“You should leave.” Taeil is unkind, and Youngho knows he deserves it.

“Okay,” Youngho doesn’t want to anger Taeil. All he wants is to make things right again, “I will after I’m done with this.”

The speed at which Youngho peels of the lid of the plastic containers is _excruciatingly_ slow, and Taeil exhales, frustrated.

Taeil’s by his side the next movement, small hands swift and nimble, popping off lids left and right, nudging Youngho out of the way to get the job done quick. Youngho stumbles a little, watching Taeil set the table at record speed, chopsticks still in his hand.

“Done.” Taeil doesn’t look up. “Get out, Youngho.”

That rockets him back down to earth,

“Are you really going to do this?” He tries to tap Taeil on the elbow, trying to get him to turn and just _look_ at him.

“Thanks for the food,” Taeil ignores him, already walking away. “I’m sure the other teachers will love it.”

“Taeil, please, could you just – ”

Five of the other kindergarten teachers rush in then, just as Taeil ducks out of the classroom.

Youngho tosses the chopsticks onto the table, nodding politely as he squeezes past them to follow Taeil, ignoring their protests to his escape.

He catches up to Taeil, the hallway void of students (outside playing in the sun) and teachers (inside eating the food Youngho bought), and he grabs hold of him lightly this time, afraid to come on too strong, what with last night’s misinterpreted actions, “Taeil.”

“I’m tired, Youngho,” Taeil doesn’t even give him a chance to explain. “Please leave.”

“Are you really going to do this?” His lips tremble.

“What?” Taeil is still busy flipping through the file he has in hand.

“Throw it all away!” The words slip out before he can stop them. Anger always comes after denial. “Five years, Taeil, does that mean nothing to you?”

Taeil shakes his head, laughing mirthlessly, as if he _knew_ the question was coming, “You’re one to talk, Youngho. _You_ brought up the premise of breaking up, joking or not, proposal or not.”

“I didn’t mean it, Taeil, I swear!” Youngho is sick of it. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, he just wants everything back the way it was. Taeil in his arms, and maybe a ring on his finger. “It was going to be a,” the word sounds so stupid now, “ _joke_ , I was never going to let it go past even a second longer.”

Taeil stops in his tracks, slapping the file shut. “Did you think getting married was a joke? Did you think I was going to laugh it off after you pretended to break up with me? After breaking my heart?”

It’s frustration simmering in him now. Doesn’t he know that Youngho’s the kind of guy who’d make jokes? Doesn’t he know that Youngho would never do anything to truly hurt him? Doesn’t Taeil know how much he loves him?

“I don’t understand why you can’t see that it was just a joke, Taeil.” _What is he doing?_

Taeil blinks up at him twice, “What if I told you _this_ was a joke? How would you feel?”

Youngho throws his hands out between them, “Relieved! Ecstatic!”

“Wouldn’t you feel hurt that I dragged you through all of this out of my own pleasure?” Taeil rounds on him, corners of his lips curling upwards into a sneer Youngho’s never seen before.

It’s almost pathetic, how sad he sounds, “I just want you back, Taeil, please. I don’t care about anything else.”

For the third time in under twenty-four hours, Taeil’s reaction is a tad bit disappointing.

“Good to know.”

And for the third time in under twenty-four hours, Taeil walks off, as fast as his legs can carry, up and out of Youngho’s sight.

 

x

 

21JUN [15:56] **youngho** : i went to taeil’s school but he’s still mad  
21JUN [15:56] **youngho** : i can’t believe it  
21JUN [15:58] **doyoung** : which part of it can’t you believe?  
21JUN [15:58] **doyoung** : the part where you fucked up  
21JUN [15:58] **doyoung** : or the part where you fucked up?  
21JUN [16:04] **youngho** : thanks, doyoung  
21JUN [16:07] **doyoung** : m’pleasure

 

He’s reached a stalemate with Taeil. He could apologize more, but he doubted it’d work. Taeil thought that apologies were more valuable with quality, not quantity, and Youngho knew that. There was nothing he could do just yet, not while Taeil’s still hostile.

The hours leading up to his adventure back into Clair De Lune are spent in the arcade, game after game of basketball, trying to beat the high score on the machine he was on, only to be defeated every single time, rounding out his losses to a total of eighty dollars.

The state he was in upon arrival at Clair De Lune was, safe to say, at its worst.

 

“There really isn’t anything here, _sir_.”

The last word was spat, a little more than annoyed, and Youngho looks up from his position (all fours on the ground) to glare at Donghyuck, who was a pleasant looking boy with flaming red hair.

“It _has_ to be here, there’s nowhere else it could be,” Youngho grumbles, but he gets up anyway, letting another boy with blonde hair brush by, arms full of stacks of papers.

“Hey,” Donghyuck’s hand stretches out to stop the boy. He turns, and Youngho’s met with wide eyes. “Did you see any ring boxes here earlier? Or at the desk?”

The boy seems to mull it over, “Not over here, but I heard Jeno saying that he found a _ring_ during his shift.”

“A ring?” Youngho echoes. “That must be it!”

Donghyuck ignores him, “Did someone come for it? It’s not at the front desk.”

“I guess,” the boy shrugs. “I didn’t see it when I took over either.”

Youngho deflates, disappointed. He’d been a little hopeful before he arrived.

“Thanks, Minhyung,” Donghyuck says, and the boy nods at the both of them, walking away promptly.

 

The cold air outside is bitingly cold, worse now that Youngho’s _lost_ the engagement ring. Taeil’s engagement ring. A ring he didn’t even get a chance to hold for long. He stands by the road for a while, sighing at his own crappy luck, and then beating himself up for being the person _causing_ the bad luck to happen.

It’s the lamp flickering just across the street from Youngho, and the way he catches sight of his disheveled appearance in the reflection of a closed shop right next to it. It’s the cars that whiz by, not one of them being a taxicab, fast before him, yet his eyes catch every detail, almost like his sense are heightened for those two seconds. It’s the way the wind hits his face, too hard, too bitter.

It’s the buzzing in his pocket.

Something’s wrong.

 

21JUN [23:56] **taeil** : youngho  
21JUN [23:56] **taeil** : there’s someone else in the apartment  
21JUN [23:56] **taeil** : please come quick

 

Youngho’s stomach twists, hard and tight. His thumb hits the ‘call’ button immediately, jogging down towards the main street, where there are hopefully more taxicabs he can hail. The call rings, and rings, but it goes straight to voicemail. He’s going to throw up. He flails an arm around, but no one stops for him. He calls Taeil again, and it rings, and rings, and it rings out to voicemail.

There’s a punch to his gut, and Youngho can’t shake the nausea building in him. A billion scenarios are flying through his head. He stops for a second, mind whirling, gripping the telephone pole tight, trying to get a grip, because he needs to get _home_.

Taeil picks up on the fifth call, when Youngho’s rushing into a taxicab, long limbs and legs banging against the pleather seats, hurriedly regurgitating the apartment’s address, urging the driver to _please hurry, it’s an emergency._

Youngho lets himself sigh in relief when the call connects, but it’s gone when Taeil whispers through the sticky line, low and distressed,

“There’s someone here,” Taeil’s voice is _trembling_. “Y – Youngho, there’s someone in the apartment.”

Youngho inhales sharply, and it’s bile coming up his throat, “What are you saying? Who’s in the apartment?”

“I – I don’t know,” Taeil whispers, and Youngho hears the clang of pots and pans. It’s jarring, maybe a little too close to the phone. “I – I can’t see his face, Youngho, _please_.”

Youngho doesn’t know how long he’s silent, not really thinking, not really breathing, not really alive at all at this point.

“Youngho? Are you there?” Taeil is frantic, and it’s raw, even through the shitty line. “I – I think he’s got a knife, Youngho. Youngho, please, I’m sorry about everything.”

“What?” _What is happening?_ “Did you call 911?” Youngho eyes are watering, and he really wants to tell the cab driver to pull over because he’s going to hurl right now. “Where are you? Where is he? Why are you saying sorry, Taeil? Taeil?”

The line drops for a second, and Youngho hears ruffling, as if Taeil was pressing the phone close to his chest, “I – I’m hiding in the bathroom, b – but I think he knows I’m here, Youngho. Youngho, _please_ tell me you’re coming for me.”

A chill rolls up Youngho’s spine, arms and legs positively burning, itching. “Did you call 911?” Youngho says again, unable to form coherent thoughts. “I’m in a taxicab, okay, just _stay_ where you are, and don’t – don’t do anything, okay? I’m coming, Taeil, I promise, I’m coming for you.”

“Youngho, I’m sorry,” Taeil says again. Youngho recognizes as driver turns onto their street, and he tells the driver to stop the taxicab, because traffic is horrible, and it’s going to be much faster for him if he just _ran_ the five blocks home. He dumps a wad of cash into the driver’s hands, not at all caring if he gave too much, because Taeil’s speaking again, “Youngho, are you coming?”

“I’m – ” He scrambles out of the car, kicking the door shut. “I’m coming, Taeil, don’t move, okay? I – ”

Taeil breathes, “I think he heard me.”

Youngho _runs_. Faster than the time Taeil chased him around the apartment with fistfuls of chocolate cake, yelling that he wouldn’t stop until he’s got his revenge on Youngho, who’d smashed his face into his birthday cake. Faster than when he and Taeil got chased out of a tiny boutique for knocking over a shelf of expensive perfumes, and Taeil had spun on his heels so quick, but Youngho caught up easily, what with his long legs, and they’d only stopped running once they got into the subway, breathless and exhilarated. Faster than when he heard Taeil’d fallen from a _tree_ at school, trying to save a cat that’s gotten stuck, only to have it claw at his arms instead, because that’s just the kind of guy Taeil was.

“Taeil, hang up and call 911,” Youngho instructs, sprinting down the empty sidewalk, the apartment building smoothly coming into view. “Don’t – ”

“Youngho, I love you.”

And the line goes dead.

Silence.

Everything is black and white suddenly, like all the color’s been sucked out of his life.

It’s pure panic, and there are tears falling, rolling down Youngho’s cheeks. His phone is gripped tight in a clammy hand, and he rushes towards the apartment building, thighs starting to burn. He doesn’t call Taeil back, he just needs to get to the love of his life, and he needs to get there _now_.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he lets the tears flow, and the sound of Taeil saying ‘I love you’ is repeated over and over and over again. Like a cassette tape gone wonky from being played too many times. He’s practically sweating through his hoodie, but his skin is hot, stifled.

_I didn’t get to tell him I love him._

Youngho forgoes the elevator, racing up the stairs to their apartment, taking them two at a time, inhaling desperate gasps of air. He doesn’t let himself think, doesn’t let himself break. There’s not enough oxygen in him for his brain to be working.

The door to their apartment is left ajar, and Youngho’s hand hovers over the handle. What was he going to do if the assailant had a weapon? What was he going to save Taeil with? Witty retorts and sarcastic comments?

He pushes the worry out of his mind, kicking the door open with his hands out in front of him,

to find Taeil sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room, his phone in both hands, dressed like he’s about to go to bed. There are rose petals scattered around him, and several candles in large jars lighting up the dim room,

“You wanted it to be a surprise, didn’t you?”

Youngho’s brain has never worked this hard in his life.

He falls to his knees, hitting the ground loudly, but he’s too drained to register the pain shooting up his bones. His arms shoot out to break his fall, palms stinging at the contact.

“Oh my god,” Taeil’s rushing to his side now, arms quick to curl around his shoulders. “Oh my god, Youngho, are you okay?”

“What,” Youngho fumbles around blindly to grab onto Taeil’s arm, frantically trying to pull him closer, hold onto him before he’s gone again. “What the fuck,” he manages to rasp out, head spinning.

Taeil’s laughing. It’s only been twenty-four hours, but it’s music to Youngho’s ears, as if it could heal everything, “Are you relieved? Ecstatic?”

Youngho’s knuckles are about to pop out of his fingers, “What?”

Taeil laughs again, cheeky, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, Youngho?”

It clicks.

Youngho didn’t think he was a big crier. He didn’t cry at movies, not even when he watched _Up_ with Taeil when it first came out in theatres. He didn’t cry when his first marketing pitch absolutely flopped, and it earned him scolding after scolding at work, as well as several nasty rumors that were spread because of that. He didn’t cry when he’d dropped his precious vintage record player, even though it was (then) the most prized possession he had.

But Youngho cries now, out of guilt, out of _relief_ , and the tears don’t stop. Not even when Taeil’s pulling Youngho into his hold, whispering quiet apologies, reassurances, and running his slender fingers through Youngho’s hair, damp with cold sweat. They sit like that together, with Youngho’s back to Taeil’s chest, leaning against the wall, the front door long shut. Youngho is still clinging onto Taeil for dear life, knees pushed up to his chest, resting his cheek over Taeil’s chest, his ear over the steady beating of Taeil’s heart. He hums softly, a tune Youngho can’t recognize.

Youngho breathes in when Taeil does, and he breathes out when Taeil does.

“How did you know?” Youngho’s voice is hoarse, words slurring. “Did Doyoung tell you?”

Taeil laughs, still combing his fingers through Youngho’s hair, “No, he didn’t. They still think I don’t know.”

Youngho drags his cheek against Taeil’s cotton pajamas to look up, “How _did_ you know?”

Taeil tugs on his hair, tilting his head back, kissing him on the lips, “I know _you,_ Youngho.”

Groaning, he looks back down, still reeling from the guilt and embarrassment of it all. He rushes to sit up, wanting to apologize for _everything_ , but the lump in his throat is making it hard for him to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Taeil says instead, brushing a thumb across Youngho’s cheek, swiping away tears that were quickly drying up. He’s smiling, “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Youngho leans into the touch, both hands finding their way to rest on Taeil’s thighs. He lets out a long exhale, shuddering, “This whole thing was so, _so_ stupid, Taeil, I’m sorry I even thought of putting you through it.”

Taeil laughs, pinching Youngho’s cheek now, a little too hard to consider it to be just affectionate, “You’re lucky I know you like I know the back of my hand, idiot.”

“No, Taeil, I’m _sorry,_ ” Youngho ducks his head, mumbling under his breath. “I – I never want to live a day without you, Taeil. I hate that I always put myself first, thinking up some insane plan to break your heart just so that I could save it again, making a joke out of everything.” He tightens his hold on Taeil’s thighs, just a little. “When you hung up earlier, I thought – ” His voice breaks. “I thought I _lost_ you, Taeil.”

“Stop it,” Taeil sighs, patting him lightly on the cheeks again, squishing them together, smiling gently at Youngho. “I know just how you are. The dumb scenarios you think up in that head of yours,” Taeil pushes against Youngho’s temple gently.

Youngho sucks in a nervous breath, “Taeil – ”

“I found the drawstring bag that came with the ring a month ago,” he brushes the highs of Youngho’s cheek. “Then I found the ring box in your sock drawer, of all places.”

_Did you see the ring?_

“I took a peek,” Taeil admits. “And then last night, I felt the ring box in your jacket pocket. I knew you had something planned.” The corner of Taeil’s lips curves downwards, “But, I’m telling you right now, Youngho,” his voice turns serious. “If I hadn’t figured it out,” he pauses. “I don’t know if I’d still be sitting here today.”

Youngho is silent.

“It would’ve been a different story if I didn’t catch on, yeah?”

“Taeil, I – ”

“I don’t want to hear any more apologies, okay?” Taeil is back to smiling. It makes Youngho feel even worse. “I already feel like the biggest idiot for still sticking by you,” Taeil scoffs, “even when Taeyong called you things I can’t ever repeat.”

He deserved that too. “Why are you forgiving me so easily?”

Taeil shrugs, “Because I love you. Nothing in the past twenty-four hours has truly made me upset, alright? I still love you as much, I just wanted to… teach you a lesson, of some sort.”

Youngho laughs bitterly, and it catches in his throat, “I’m sorry, Taeil.”

“Would you stop – ”

“No, wait,” Youngho hides his face in his hands. “You can’t even imagine how _sorry_ I am… I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m so ashamed that I’d even thought of putting you through that, making you suffer like that, Taeil.”

“C’mere,” Taeil hugs him then, climbing and sinking into Youngho’s lap, fitting like a glove. His runner shorts ride up a little, revealing his pale skin, a deep contrast to Youngho’s black jeans. “I know you never meant to hurt me.” He hooks his chin over Youngho’s shoulder, fingers lazily running along Youngho’s undercut. “I know that much. I trust you that much.”

When Youngho keeps silent, Taeil continues, “Besides, I got you back, didn’t I?”

Youngho doesn’t have the strength to laugh, “You did.”

“Would I really be Seo Youngho’s boyfriend if I didn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve?” Youngho can feel Taeil grinning into his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t,” Youngho lets himself hug Taeil back, and the smaller man sighs again.

“Just promise me,” Taeil crosses his legs behind Youngho’s back, the heel of his feet poking at his tailbone. “Talk to me first? Whatever you’re nervous about, okay? Even if it involves me, even if it involves us.”

“Taeil – ”

“I don’t care if it’s stupid,” Taeil hugs Youngho tighter, like he was trying to squeeze the guilt away. “That’s the only thing the bothered me... You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Youngho closes his eyes, burrowing his nose into the crook of Taeil’s neck, breathing him in. “It was a stupid decision.”

Taeil laughs, and it thrums against Youngho’s chest, “The proposal?”

Youngho grabs him by the shoulders, pushing him off lightly, panicked, “No! No, of course not the proposal!”

“I know,” Taeil grins, hands resting on Youngho’s shoulders, thumb dipping under collar of his hoodie.

“All I want to do is be with you forever,” Youngho sighs, another wave of guilt crashes into him. “I just want you. But I had to go and do _this_ , and ruin everything.”

“Well,” Taeil tilts his head to the side. “You’ve yet to ask me to marry you, y’know?”

“Taeil,” Youngho nearly whimpers, not quite believing what he’s hearing at this point.

How could Taeil just move past this like that? Didn’t he realize that he could do _so_ much better than Youngho, who was planning on breaking his heart, though he decided against it, but having the initial thought… Maybe Taeil truly believed it was nerves, worried about things that were far from happening, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe it was really just a slip-of-the-moment that Youngho’s brain-to-mouth filter stopped working. Maybe it was just the moment of it all, losing the ring, and –

“The ring,” Youngho groans, resting his head against Taeil’s shoulder, utterly disappointed.

“What about it?” Taeil murmurs, still playing with the short hairs on the back of Youngho’s neck. He doesn’t sound terribly concerned that Youngho’s just lost the engagement ring he was going to propose with.

“I – ” He gulps. “I left it at the restaurant last night. It’s not there anymore.”

Taeil drags his hands down Youngho’s back, and he can feel the slight dig of the fingernails even through his sweatshirt, “Did you go down to check?”

“Yeah,” Youngho mumbles into Taeil’s shoulder. “I was just there earlier, before you – called.”

Taeil hums, “I guess it’s not happening tonight then.”

Youngho looks up, and Taeil’s hands still, pulling back to look Youngho in the eye, a devilish grin on his face, “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Think you can carry me to the bedroom?”

Youngho blinks. His legs were about to give up, and walk out the door, but he wasn’t about to deny Taeil any of his requests, not when he’s been the World’s Worst Boyfriend the entire day, “Why?”

“I’ve a surprise for you in there,” Taeil shrugs nonchalantly. “I didn’t think you’d collapse in the hallway, I’ll tell you that.”

At the mention of Taeil’s intruder prank, Youngho pulls him into another hug, breathing him in, “I thought I was going to black out, Taeil. How could I not when I thought you _died_?”

“Alright, alright,” Taeil laughs, rubbing his hands up and down Youngho’s spine. “I’m sorry, I went too far with that one.”

“You did,” Youngho complains pathetically. “But I’m worse.”

Taeil pinches him, and he squirms, “Stop that.”

He moves to untangle himself from Youngho, but the taller man hugs him closer. He didn’t want Taeil to leave just yet. After several moments of struggling, and Taeil laughing into his ear, Youngho manages to stand on wobbly legs, carrying Taeil into their bedroom, ignoring the way his back cricks.

“Now put me down,” Taeil pats him twice on the shoulder, and Youngho abides, letting him down with a tiny hop. He watches as Taeil pads over to their bedside table, pulling the top-drawer open, brandishing the familiar velvet ring box.

Rose red.

He pulls out _another_ ring box.

Rose red. Same gold heart impressed on the top.

“What – ”

Taeil drops to one knee then, and Youngho’s hands fly up to his temple, sucking in the biggest breath he’s taken in his life, so hard that tears start to rim the bottom of his eyes. His chest is starting to hurt again, and his legs are going to give way.

The temperature drops to subzero, and butterflies are swarming Youngho’s stomach.

“Seo Youngho,” Taeil starts, but his voice is already wavering, clutching the box tightly in his tiny hands.

 _It’s happening. This is happening_. _Oh fuck, it’s happening_.

“We’ve been together for five years, now,” Taeil laughs shakily. “And I’ve known you for at least seven.”

“Taeil – ” Youngho doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Wait,” Taeil closes his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “Shut up, I’m trying to propose to you right now.”

Youngho covers his mouth to smother a sob that threatens to break through.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Youngho. I’ve never been happier around anyone else, felt safer around anyone else, even though I’m the butt of your nasty pranks sometimes,” Taeil blinks up to look at Youngho in the eye, trying to glare at him, but Youngho can tell that he’s nervous too. “I love you even when you leave your clothes everywhere, even when you eat leftoevers without heating it up because you’re so lazy, even when you sing stupid pop songs at seven in the morning to wake me up.”

Youngho can’t even laugh without feeling the need to just _cry_.

“I love you when you bring food to me at school,” Taeil sniffles, and Youngho’s still holding in his breath, attentively listening to him. “I ate after you left today at school, it was really good.”

He laughs at himself, but Youngho can’t find it in him to do the same. Having such a distance between them was starting to become a bother, an itch Youngho can’t get rid of.

“I will love you,” Taeil clears his throat. “I will love you, even when you’re craving hot fishcakes at three in the morning, dragging me out of bed to get them with you. I will love you, even when you buy hundreds of dollars’ worth of Tupperware when you’re watching late-night infomercials. I will love you, even when you make me do things I don’t want to do, because I know you don’t want me to miss out on life.”

Youngho recalls each of those memories as Taeil lists them. He’s pressing into his temples so hard now, he’s sure he’s about to break skin.  

Taeil swipes his own tears away quickly, laughing, “God, why is this so difficult?”

Youngho is still frozen by the door, not really sure if Taeil wanted him to say anything now. Taeil’s tears don’t stop, not even when he’s frantically trying to brush them all away to continue his speech. He hiccups several times,

“Y – Youngho, I – ”

At the sound of his name, Youngho breaks from his rooted position, scurrying to fall to his knees beside Taeil, hugging him tightly,

“I – I’m not done yet,” Taeil pushes Youngho away, but his attempts are weak.

Youngho squeezes him tight, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Taeil wiggles in Youngho’s hold, “Will you – ”

“Yes!” Youngho rushes to say.

“I’m not done – ”

“Taeil,” Youngho deadpans, pulling away. He struggles with his words, because the only thing running through his mind is _yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!_

“I’ve waited a long time,” Youngho curves a finger under Taeil’s chin. Taeil blinks, fresh tears falling, “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Youngho – ”

“Will you marry me?”

Taeil’s crying again, a hand coming up to smack Youngho’s shoulder. He whines, “I was going to propose!”

Youngho laughs, hurriedly reaching behind Taeil to grab the ring box off the table, popping it open. The ring gleams, shiny and somewhat full of promise, “Moon Taeil, will you marry me?”

Taeil kicks at Youngho’s shins before opening the ring box in his own hands, revealing the same pearl colored satin cushion, and the same ring, but maybe a size bigger, “Will you?”

Youngho laughs, dipping down to kiss him on the lips, using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe Taeil’s face, “I most definitely will. I love you.”

“Give me your hand,” Taeil plucks the ring from the cushion, grabby hands searching for Youngho’s. “If you got to propose,” he draws a shuddering breath, “then I get to put my ring on you first.”

“Anything for you,” Youngho kisses him again, not quite able to get enough of Taeil. Not when his attention is on his hands, sliding the silver band onto Youngho’s ring finger with his own, trembling hands.

The ring suits him perfect, winking up at Youngho when it catches the light.

Youngho reaches for Taeil’s right hand silently, and the air around them is dense and heavy. Taeil inhales in anticipation.

The ring slides on easily for Taeil too, and it looks just the way Youngho hoped for it to look. Beautiful, silver against his pale skin.

“I love you,” Youngho says again, with as much emotion as he possibly can just through those three words, hoping, oh, _hoping_ Taeil would be able to feel even a fraction of it.

“I love you too,” Taeil echoes, laughing with a happy sob, getting up on both knees to fling his arms around Youngho, tackling him to the ground. “I can’t believe we’re getting married.”

Youngho cock’s an eyebrow, teasing, “Did you ever think we weren’t going to?”

“No,” Taeil rolls his eyes, kissing Youngho on the tip of his nose. “I didn’t think _you_ were ever going to propose.”

“What?” Youngho shifts Taeil a little, until he’s lying right on top of him.

“I found the ring a month ago,” Taeil deadpans, examing the ring on his finger, a smile growing on his face. “I didn’t think you were ever going to get up and do it.”

Youngho makes a strangled noise, “I was nervous.”

“Mm,” Taeil hums, kissing Youngho again, on the lips this time. It lasts a little longer, moves a little slower. “I forgive you.”

Youngho sighs, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being amazed at how perfect Taeil looks up close, “For everything?”

Taeil laughs, kissing him again, “For everything.”

And they kiss and kiss, each one lasting longer than the one before. Taeil giggles, still dazzled from it all. Youngho rolls them around, pressing against Taeil softly, trying to kiss the laughs away, trailing his lips down the underside of his jaw, and then up to his earlobes. Taeil sighs, appeased when Youngho moves down to his neck. He suddenly recalls the night before, with tears and the mention of _breakup_ sex,

“Taeil,” Youngho draws away, and Taeil pinches his shoulder. “Is this okay? Last night, you said – ”

He nods, rubbing a comforting hand over the stinging skin, “It’s okay. I was just,” a tense pause, “acting.”

Youngho laughs in disbelief, ducking back down to leave wet kisses on his neck. Taeil arches away, baring more of himself for Youngho, “You’re a good actor,” he says between kisses, hand skirting the edges of Taeil’s runner shorts, taunting him. “Think you could do that for a living.”

“Really?” Taeil breathes, eyes fluttering shut, but he tries to keep the conversation light, playing along with Youngho’s teases. “Maybe I will.”

Youngho hums against Taeil’s neck, and the vibrations send shivers down his spine, “Like that?”

Taeil turns away, hand gripping Youngho’s bicep, “S’alright.”

“Just ‘alright’?” Youngho frowns. He pushes past Taeil’s shirt, hand smoothly skating up his chest, pressing just a little harder on the down strokes. Taeil shudders again. “What about that?”

Taeil gasps when Youngho’s fingers ghost over his nipples, light and flitting, “It’s g – good.”

“How do you want it tonight?” Youngho sighs, letting his breath fan across Taeil’s collarbone, indulging in the way goosebumps appear in its wake. He was still smarting about the whole thing, even though Taeil’s done enough to convince him otherwise. “I want you to feel good tonight.”

Taeil exhales, letting his lips fall open when Youngho rubs his thumb against him, “I feel good with you all the time.”

Youngho licks Taeil’s upper lip, and Taeil takes the chance to suck on his lower lip. They kiss some more, and Taeil grows pliant, letting out soft moans that Youngho swallows earnestly.

“Bed, bed, bed,” Taeil breaks the kiss to insist, and Youngho complies, lifting him easily, letting Taeil flop back onto the bed. “Take your shirt off,” Taeil instructs, pulling his own shirt over his head.

Youngho does as he’s told, and Taeil’s hands are on him the second the sweatshirt lands on the floor. He kisses Youngho’s chest, trailing his small hands over Youngho’s torso, enjoying the way the muscles tense under his touch, nosing the edge of Youngho’s jeans. He unfastens them with quick fingers, and the cold air hits Youngho, making him shiver.

“Taeil,” Youngho licks his lips, shimmying out of his jeans, cheeks warming as Taeil watches. He shakes it off, pressing Taeil into the mattress, hovering over him. “Taeil, Taeil, _Taeil_.”

He laughs, pulling Youngho down for their lips to meet, teeth nipping at his lips, tongue licking into Youngho’s mouth.

“How do you want it?” Youngho groans when Taeil wraps his hand around him, stroking at a painfully slow pace.

“I just want you,” Taeil smiles into the kiss.

Youngho nods, moving Taeil’s hand away to pull his runner shorts off him, revealing his growing boner. He stretches across Taeil, rummaging their beside table, pulling out a bottle of lube. He squeezes enough onto two fingers, pressing kisses onto Taeil’s hipbones, clean hand trailing up and down his thighs.

“I already – ” Taeil’s interrupted by a shudder when Youngho kisses the underside of his dick. “I prepared a little before you – you got home.”

“Did you?” Youngho never fails to get hard at the thought of Taeil prepping on his own. “Show me.”

Taeil spreads his legs open, lacing his fingers into Youngho’s hair, pulling gently.

True enough, Taeil’s already pinkish and swelling. Youngho wets his lips at the sight, rubbing his lube coated fingers over his entrance, only pushing in when Taeil’s frustrated, tugging on Youngho’s hair a little harder.

Taeil moans loudly when Youngho pushes two fingers in easily, working him just a little, pushing a third finger in to add to the stretch. It doesn’t take long for him to find Taeil’s prostate, having done this so many times, knowing just how Taeil liked it.

“Y – Youngho, enough,” Taeil moans, smacking him on the head heavily. “I’m gonna come if you k – keep that up.”

“Okay,” Youngho pulls his fingers out, and Taeil groans, despite it being his request. He sits back on his heels to roll a condom on, a task proving to be a little difficult, what with his sticky hands. “Yeah, okay, pillow, pillow.”

Taeil grabs one from the stack behind him, expertly shoving it under his hips, “C’mere,” he murmurs, urgently tugging up against Youngho’s arm. “I want you to kiss me.”

A laugh bubbles in Youngho’s chest, not that anything’s particularly funny, he was just _happy_.

“Anything you want,” he says cheekily, and their tongues meet before their lips do.

“C’mon,” Taeil complains against Youngho’s lips, already breathless. “I want you now.”

Youngho laughs, and Taeil pinches him yet again, but the feeling of the silver band on Youngho’s skin is enough to void the pain.

He lines himself up, angling one of Taeil’s legs onto his torso, pushing into Taeil, slow and careful. Taeil clenches onto him immediately, whining when Youngho stops.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Taeil pats his arm, sensing Youngho’s hesitation. Always so attentive to him. “Move.”

Youngho runs his clean hand along Taeil’s calves, “Relax for me, babe.”

Taeil sucks in a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to accomodate, and Youngho moves, pushing in until he bottoms out.

“You feel so good,” Youngho murmurs, and Taeil’s already sweating, hair starting to stick to his forehead. “You feel _so_ good, Taeil.”

“Shut up,” Taeil swallows, moving to wrap his legs around Youngho, pulling him closer. Youngho lets himself fall forward, kissing Taeil again. He’s deeper into Taeil now, with this position, and Taeil whimpers into the kiss, jerking his hips down, signaling for him to move.

Youngho thrusts into him, pulling out almost all the way, and then back in again slowly. Taeil groans at each thrust, clawing at Youngho’s back, and kicking him in the tailbone, urging him on. He bucks up shamelessly, and Youngho grins into Taeil’s neck, sucking him hard, teeth and all, tongue swiping over it to mellow the sting.

“I want you close to me,” Taeil whines, forces Youngho’s back down, groaning when his dick presses between their bodies.

“Taeil,” Youngho steadies his arms on the sides of Taeil’s head, elbows digging into the bed for purchase. “Taeil, I love you.”

Youngho gets on his knees, and it feels _good_ , their bodies flushed together, sweat, breaths mingling.

Taeil arches up against into Youngho, laughing, winded, “I love you too. But if you don’t hurry up,” he gasps, “I swear, Youngho, I’ll – ”

He slams into Taeil, as per his instructions, and Taeil moans so loud, there’s no way their neighbors didn’t hear. Youngho sets the pace, quick and shallow, latching his lips onto Taeil’s neck, panting loudly. He can feel Taeil getting hotter against him. Youngho tries to reach down to jerk Taeil off, but his arms are starting to grow weak from holding himself up.

“I – I got it,” Taeil breathes, hand sliding between them to stroke himself, keeping with Youngho’s rhythm. Youngho groans loudly, watching him Taeil jerk himself off.

Taeil cusses, loud and unhinged, when Youngho hits him just _right_ , and he squeezes him harder. Youngho chokes at the pressure, not even kissing Taeil anymore, just letting himself breathe against him. He’s starting to get a little light headed, and his chest and legs are screaming at the workout. He fucks harder, and Taeil moans, curses mixed together as they spill from his lips, thumping his head back against the pillow.

He comes first, with a quick shout, clenching onto Youngho’s dick tight. His free hand flies from gripping the sheets to slap over his heart, and the sight of the ring kicks Youngho over the edge. He orgasms, shaking against Taeil when he does. Taeil’s hips are still bucking up, and Youngho slows his thrusts, coaxing him. He kisses Taeil until he’s completely sated, sighing into Youngho. His arms give out then, and he drops onto Taeil heavily, knocking the air out of his chest. He can feel Taeil’s heart thudding loudly against his chest, matching his.

“Heavy,” Taeil whines, squirming under Youngho, but he holds him close, legs unwrapping themselves from Youngho’s waist.

“I love you,” Youngho mumbles incoherently, sliding a little off Taeil so that he doesn’t squish his fiancé breathless.

_Fiancé._

Taeil kisses Youngho, hot and wet, lips and tongues sliding together, but it’s slow and lazy too, “I love you more.”

Youngho rolls his eyes, “Not possible.”

“You pretended to break up with me,” Taeil jokes. It’s a twinge to Youngho’s heart, but he knows Taeil wouldn’t want him to start apologizing again.

He settles with, “You pretended to _die_.”

Taeil laughs, soft and tired, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

 

 

(“I can’t believe that worked,” Doyoung rolls his eyes the next day when he sees Youngho and Taeil’s intertwined fingers, matching rings on their fingers.

“Wouldn’t suggest it for when _you_ propose,” Taeil shrugs, bringing his coffee to his lips.

“Shut up, here he comes,” Doyoung says, a little like déjà vu to Youngho’s ears, and he laughs, looking over his shoulder. Taeyong’s eyes widen when he spots Youngho, and he takes in a deep breath, puffing up his chest, yelling from across the café,

“SEO YOUNGHO!”

 

Doyoung blinks twice, “Did I not tell him it was a prank?”

Youngho _never_ hears the end of it.)   

**Author's Note:**

> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


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